looked like a dead man.
That was all JJ could think of as she stared at the body on the bed in front of her. Enclosed in braces and packs and tubes and monitors, Max actually looked more like a machine than her brother. He was so banged up and trussed up that the only thing that still looked like Max was the hand lying beside hers on the stark white blanket. She put her hand on top of it, startled by how cold it was. She wanted the fingers to squeeze hers, to show some sign of life, but they were limp and still.
A nurse came up behind her. “They’ve made it so he can’t move. He’s in there, I promise you, but he’ll be heavily sedated for a little while longer.”
JJ looked back at the nurse. Hers was the first calm face JJ had seen in hours. “How bad is it?”
“He was one of the lucky ones. He made it here under the eight-hour window, which means they can give him drugs that improve his chances considerably. He had good care on site and they got him here fast.”
“Max always said he wanted to ride in a helicopter.” She couldn’t believe she was making a joke while her brother lay dying.
No, Max wasn’t dying. At least now they were able to tell her that much. He’d definitely survive, only survival was going to be very different for a while. Maybe forever. JJ felt her throat tighten.
“Our boy has some fight in him, does he?” The nurse had a gentle smile.
“Loads.”
Placing her hand on JJ’s shoulder, the nurse gave her a quick squeeze. “That’s good. He has excellent chances—you need to believe that. And those bruises will get worse before they get better, so he won’t be winning any beauty contests anytime soon, but the tricky part’s over for now.” She nodded toward a vinyl couch against the windows. “That folds out if you want to try to nap—I’d guess you’ve been up for hours. I’m Leslie and I’ll be on duty all today. What’s your name, dear?”
“JJ. Max is my brother.” JJ swiped a tear away with the back of her hand.
“It a comfort to have family here. Max is in expert hands—we’re very good at what we do. We’ll give him every chance there is, JJ, so you hang on to that.” She punched a few buttons on one of Max’s monitors. “What’s JJ stand for?”
“Josephine Jones. It’s always been a bit of a mouthful, so I’ve been JJ since I was about twelve.”
Leslie ran an assessing hand along several of the way-too-many tubes traveling between Max and the assortment of machines that clustered around his bedside. “It’s a good, strong name. Can I give you some advice, JJ?”
“I suppose.”
“See all these machines? They’re taking every burden we can off Max’s body so that it can spend all its energy on healing. They look invasive, but they’re really making things easier for Max. You should do the same. You and your family have a long road ahead of you, so it’s time to pull in your own support. Call in your friends and Max’s friends, and when they offer to help, don’t think of them as invasive. Think of them as taking the burden off you so you can spend your energy on helping Max.”
Sweet thoughts, but they sounded a bit rehearsed to JJ. “Do you say that to all the families?” It came out sharper than JJ would have liked, but she didn’t really have a lot of grace to extend to anyone at the moment.
There was no judgment in Leslie’s expression. “Just the ones who aren’t crying.”
“Not crying?”
“The ones who don’t cry are the ones who are used to staying strong. Strong is a good thing—Max will need your strength—but this is one of those times where you’d better call in the cavalry. That’s harder for some people than others. Just promise me that when people offer to help, you’ll say yes.”
“Call for backup.” She was familiar with the concept. And yes, she’d always had a bit of trouble calling for backup before. Hadn’t she just rebuffed Alex’s multiple offers to help? It made JJ wonder if all ICU nurses had Leslie’s high level of intuition.
Leslie smiled. “Exactly. Promise me you’ll call for backup. And that includes me. I happen to know the coffee from the machine on the fourth floor is the only stuff in the hospital worth drinking.” A nursing assistant knocked gently and then slid the glass ICU door open to reveal a cart full of bandages and such. “Stan and I have some less than dignified tasks to do to your brother. Why don’t you take this chance to go get yourself some breakfast and make some calls? Max is out cold for the time being, and he’ll want you here, on top of your game, later.”
Whereas a few minutes ago the room felt small and claustrophobic like the inside of a combat vehicle, it suddenly felt wrong to leave Max. Her presence had turned into some kind of vigil to her, as if she were keeping Max alive—just one more responsibility she was taking on for his sake. How quickly she had catapulted herself back into big-sister mode, absorbing Max’s self-inflicted catastrophes as some sort of failure on her part to keep him in line.
Leslie caught her hesitation. “Thirty minutes. It will do you good. Believe me, he’s not going anywhere and he’s very stable. Go on.”
“Okay.” JJ had to mentally command her feet to walk toward the door. Her head knew Leslie’s advice was sound; it was her heart that wouldn’t swallow the truth.
The glass doors closed behind her with an antiseptic swish, and JJ blinked in the stark light from the hallway windows. When had the sun come up?
Again, she forced her feet to move. It felt like her shoes echoed too loudly against the tiled floor and calm-colored walls until she pushed open the double doors that led out of the ICU unit. There, on the square navy couches she’d already come to hate, sat Alex. He looked like she felt, but he raised one of the two cups of coffee he held. “It’s awful, but I thought you could use some.”
Intrusive, but offering help. JJ could practically feel Leslie pushing her along toward the sad paper cup and its lukewarm contents. “Sure.”
Chapter Four
They drank the horrid stuff in silence. Alex had a million things to say, but all of it seemed so trivial in the face of the circumstances. They had sat in silence several times together out on the dock, but it had felt much different. That silence had been warm and soft and effortless. This silence was cold and sharp, and holding it up was exhausting. Finally, just to break the quiet, Alex said, “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” she muttered. The weariness in her voice was worse than the silence.
“I want to help, but I don’t know how. Can you think of anything you need?”
JJ put down the cup and squinted her eyes shut. “I need Max to be okay.”
Ouch. He’d been able to get word that Max had stabilized, pressing his position at Adventure Gear into a scrap of information from a nurse at the desk. She’d refused to tell him anything else and had insisted he shouldn’t ask again. “He will.” Of course, Alex had no basis whatsoever for the pronouncement, but it seemed downright cruel to say anything else.
“They’re telling me he’ll definitely live. It’s more of a how question at the moment.” JJ’s eyes shot open, fire blazing behind the turquoise currently leveled straight at him. “It is a how question. Like how did this happen? Max knew how to climb. How did he fall?”
She stopped just short of saying, “Whose fault is this?” He answered it for her as carefully as he could.
“I don’t know all the facts yet. People are scurrying all over the set trying to find things out, and I’m hearing conflicting reports.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Alex also knew that the only thing worse than no information was the wrong information. “It could’ve been a safety issue with the climbing site. Or the rain. Or bad knots or someone doing something they weren’t supposed to, or all four. People tend to get stupid when